


I Am Human

by Unlikelyoptimist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Romance, Smut, Soulless Sam Winchester, emotionally whumping Gabriel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unlikelyoptimist/pseuds/Unlikelyoptimist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel will be the first to admit that a few of the things he's done in his time could be described as cruel, even heartless. But when he meets Sam, or rather, whatever scraps of Sam's personality hung around in his body without a soul, it takes "no limits" to a whole new level. Sam is eager for a powerful ally, and Gabriel is struggling between his affection for who Sam was and denial of what's happening in the here and now. On the road to finding Sam's soul again, a difficult question is posed: at the end of this journey, which one of them is going to have the greatest claim to humanity, and all the messy emotions that come with it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Gabriel. It’s been awhile. You’re looking awfully...alive.” Sam smirked, peculiarly sinister on his usually puppy dog face. Gabriel couldn’t figure it out; it was definitely Sam, no shifter or demon. It also definitely wasn’t Sam; no sheepish grin or wondering amazement. Getting older and more worn down was one thing; he’d watched Sam go from some broken teen in Broward County, begging for his brother’s life to a twisted blood junkie, so desperate for a chance to save the world and hit back for once.

But this? Cold calculation was hardly Sam’s style, any more than seductive smirks or laid back confidence. Gabriel stepped closer, mouth grinning widely, but eyes searching Sam all over, looking for what he was so obviously missing.   “I could say the same, Sammy; you look pretty good for a guy who just went to hell.” The stink of wafting smoke and the burn of hellfire was still on him; he should be a sobbing mess. Instead, Sam shrugged, taking a step closer; pale streetlamp light spilling over his features, giving them an even more foreign cast.   “I don’t know who busted me, but it looks like I got out scot free; lucky, after that stupid stunt I pulled.” He gave a snort in disgust, sending off alarm bells in Gabriel’s head.

“You say that like you didn’t know the consequences ahead of time.” Sam gave a short laugh at that.  
“Trust me...I didn’t.” Gabriel cocked an eyebrow. Sam sounded, in a human cliche, heartless. And it struck him, the most awful mistake that could have been made, and he walked forward, slowly and deliberately, giving Sam the same look he’d given him years ago when Sam had exposed himself with tears and begging and forced Gabriel to really see him. Except he was getting the awful feeling this time there wasn’t going to be much to see.

Sam tensed, already put on guard, and so got a swing in as Gabriel pinned him to a nearby car, one arm lodged firmly under his neck as Gabriel reached his hand and plunged it into Sam’s abdomen, trying his best to ignore his agonized groans coming from Sam as he clenched his teeth in an effort to handle the pain.

He felt traces of Cas’ grace, which made him a little more possessively jealous than he’d like to admit.

He felt scars, ugly and raised, and wounds, still festering

He felt an empty hollow

He felt his failure like the knife he’d been stabbed with, because he’d been too late, one too many times.

Slowly, he retracted his hand; Sam doubled over, panting and swearing.

“Jesus, Gabriel, I know we haven’t seen each other in a while, but that’s not exactly-” He broke off as Gabriel slammed a fist into the car; the metal crumpled and warped around him.

“You aren’t Sam. You’re a monster, an abomination. You’re a twisted, mutated...” he was shouting, and there was the whine of white noise hinting in his voice; the street lamp combusted, spitting glass over the two of them. A glass shard sliced across Sam’s face, but he smiled.

“So you can tell, then. I knew it was no use trying to shrug it off; you always were good at telling when I lied,” he remarked; Gabriel forced his anger down as his form vibrated, bones trembling in protest at the sudden surge of Grace.

Sam’s hand would have been on his arm, eyes crinkled in worried confusion. Deflated by the realization that his anger was wasted, that the Sam standing in front of him was nothing more than bemused, he carefully composed his face.

“Your soul. It’s gone.” His voice was a flatline. Sam looked briefly surprised, and maybe a little confused, but then shrugged and then hitched up that shallow excuse for a smile.

“Figured it was something like that. Gotta admit, it’s got perks; I’m not gonna miss the tearful sappiness, emotional damage...the weakness, y’know?”

_I will._

Gabriel knew then what he had to do. It was why Sam had come here, knowing that Gabriel had that same weakness, a crack in his immaculate Grace. He wanted protection, and knew Gabriel’s weakness was shaped like Sam Winchester.

He smiled heartlessly, because Sam wanted an archangel chained by love and tamed through sentiment. What he was going to get was a Trickster who’d spent centuries learning how to shoot first even if he’d drawn second.

“Admit it...you’re lost, and you’re more than a little friendless. So I’ll do you a favor and bat in your corner while we look for your soul.” He leaned heavily on the last line; he was drawing his boundaries now. No permanence, no attachment; it was for Sammy’s sake, not Sam’s. It was what Gabriel would settle for, and Sam had to work with.

“Do we have to kiss to seal the deal?” Sam took a step closer, deprived of the lamplight to reveal his face, and stood nose to nose with Gabriel. His voice was light and innocent and playful, the perfect con. Gabriel twisted his lips; it appeared Sam was trying on his new emotions. Or at least, pretending to.

“I’m not some demon tramp, sweetheart; buy me a drink first.” He pressed Sam away with a single finger, matching him tone for tone but eyes blazing with challenge.

Sam’s lips quirked, and he grasped Gabriel’s hand in a tight shake. Unspeaking, they turned and walked back to Sam’s motel room. The lamps were all blown; they were two inhuman shades walking on a shimmering cloud of broken glass.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to get a little...tense.

     That first week, Gabriel searched all over; talked to demon and demigod alike, but the answer was always the same. No one knew how Sam’s soul had been separated from his body without him dying in the first place, much less how to get it back. Of course, he might be able to get it back himself, but there were a few occupants down in the Cage he wasn’t particularly eager to see. Sam innocently suggested that they default to hunting in the meantime, and Gabriel reluctantly agreed.  
      Living with Sam different from what Gabriel had expected from the get go. Sam didn’t sleep, for one thing, and it creeped him out. As an archangel he didn’t have to sleep either, but it was foreign to him to find a human who didn’t. At night they drove, no need for motel stops; unable to stand the way Sam would sit next to him in unrelenting silence, scoffing at any attempt at humor or scorning any attempt at conversation, he often flitted out, unable to take it. Some nights, of course, Sam went out and found some pretty girl at a bar to take back to a cheap motel room and get frisky with, and Gabriel would push his way out of the motel past Sam, who’s lips were on his girl’s neck but eyes followed Gabriel from the room. On either occasion, Gabriel would go to a bar, get as drunk as he possibly could, and wander the streets, carelessly wrecking cars and street lamps, snapping derisive graffiti in Latin onto business fronts. On the worse days he zapped farther away and caused natural disasters; he made wind howl and rip things from their groundings, taking vicious pleasure in seeing the bedraggled boyfriends try and shield their girlfriends for the bruising rain. He made it blizzard in Florida; he was being childishly obvious, and didn’t give a damn.  
      He began serving out punishments to wrongdoers again because sometimes it helped vindicate his existence, and sometimes he just liked to feel the power, the pleasure of control, and he was merciless.  
      He’d heard there was a civil war in heaven, and Cassie was having trouble; he didn’t care. He’d learned his lesson. He checked in anyways.  
      He checked on Dean, saw him happy, and resented him for it. He shorted the electricity in their house and turned away when he saw Lisa, Ben, and Dean laughing as they looked for flashlights.  
      He went everywhere and anywhere but the motel room where Sam sat staring with arrogant eyes, knowing things about Gabriel that Gabriel wished he didn’t know.

      When they hunted, it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done; Gabriel’s main job was not to take down the monsters, but making sure Sam didn’t become one. He was harsh and demanding with witnesses, brutal with monsters; there was no gray. Gabriel’s instinct was to act the same, and so finding himself in the position of reigning Sam in, keeping him in check, was extremely unpleasant. There was an ever present temptation to let go, to let both of them harden into ruthless killers. Strangely, being with Sam was like being with what a god should be; devoid of pity or sympathy, ambivalent or hostile but never weak.  
Gabriel found terrible irony that his father in heaven had brought him back with the sole responsibility of being Sam’s guardian angel, when he’d done his best to be everything but an angel; god, Trickster, human. He’d even tried to make himself into nothing, once or twice, but his dad wasn’t going to let him off so easy.  
Sam’s balanced bloodlust was disturbing, almost sickening on someone who had once been so reluctant to kill, and never violent or cruel. His instincts were sharpened, deadened by the lack of fear, hesitation, or the natural inhibition embedded in the soul of a human that made killing unpleasant without training it off.  
      Gabriel couldn’t decide what the worst part was; maybe the subtle, almost gentle expression of satisfaction he got after he straightened up and wiped the blood from his face, surveying the body in front of him. Or the clinical interest he took in his own wounds, examining them before turning to Gabriel expectantly, his smile taunting him with the fact that Gabriel cared too much to tell him to piss off and heal naturally for once. Perhaps the way he took for granted that if a fight got tight, Gabriel would place himself in between whatever monster they were fighting and Sam if he got injured or simply wanted to remind Gabriel who had the upper hand. The sting he felt when Sam didn’t even flinch as he let some demon try and stab him in the chest while Sam circled round to slit its throat.  
      He supposed it didn’t really matter what part of it was the worst, because it was his own Cage, and all the power he’d built up over millennia wouldn’t change the fact that Sam knew he wouldn’t leave, but Gabriel knew Sam would never stay.

     One particularly bloody hunt was when Sam ran back into Lenore. Gabriel had a vague idea of what had happened with that vampire; some crazy hunter named Gordon who’d tried to kill Sam a couple of times and a long lesson on morality for the Winchester boys, whatever. Gabriel hadn’t counted on running into her, hadn’t thought to warn her, and so had nearly missed the sudden flicker of movement Sam’s arm made when it came up, machete in hand.  
      As she stepped back and threw an arm up in defense, eyes widened in horror and a withered smile of greeting sliding off her face, Gabriel caught Sam’s arm in a bruising grip and jerked it back down, away from the deadly scything arc it had been on; he did his best to smile charmingly at Lenore.  
     “Sorry; he’s...not really himself lately.” Lenore gave him an incredulous look; after all, this was hardly an adequate response. Meanwhile, Sam looked down at Gabriel with equal incredulity, muscles bulging as he struggled to escape Gabriel’s grip.  
     “Let me go.”  
     “Sam, think about this for a second-”  
     “I should have killed that lying whore when I had the chance, now let me go!” Lenore flinched as Gabriel tightened his grip on Sam’s hand.  
     “Calm down and handle this like a rational person before I zap you out of here,” he hissed, low and threatening. Sam glared at him for a second longer before snatching his arm out of Gabriel’s grip, too proud to rub the inevitable bruise. He turned his glare on Lenore, who was surveying them warily.  
     “Are you really Sam Winchester?” She gave him a hard look, clearly bewildered at the transformation. Gabriel hesitated; he didn’t exactly want to make Sam’s soullessness public knowledge.  
     “Let’s just say it’s been a rough couple of years.” Lenore gave him another glance.  
     “You’re not Dean.”  
     “Well then, it must be your lucky day, sweetheart.” Sam huffed in impatience, and two pairs of eyes swiveled to him as his grip on the knife tightened.  
     “Enough with the banter; you broke your promise. Vampire killings here for the last week, and then you show up?” Before Gabriel could tell him not to jump to conclusions, Lenore was in his face, fangs bared in fury.  
     “Don’t make presumptions; I’m taking responsibility for one of mine who went rogue.” She gave him an appraising look before adding, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were the monster this time around; you stink of blood, and not all of it monster.” Sam’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but Gabriel jumped in smoothly, desperately trying to put a cap on the rising tension.   “Understood. Lenore, was it? We’ll take care of this one; you might want to ditch town before more hunters looking to clean up a case show up.” Lenore had already crossed her arms and shaken her head before he finished.  
     “She was one of mine, and whatever she is, I’m not leaving her to get butchered by you,” she growled, the last shot clearly taken at Sam.  
     “Don’t you lecture me on humane practice, you filthy little-”  
     “Enough.” Gabriel’s voice was dangerously quiet; he knew better than to give Sam the illusion that he’d lost control of his temper, because lack of control was the last thing he needed in this situation. They both paused and gave him their full attention for the first time in the conversation; his eyes were hard and gold and rich with the promise of an imminent breaking point. Sam looked slightly alarmed while Lenore tried to hide the primal fear that her instincts were summoning at the sight of an archangel’s eyes. When he spoke again, it was in a voice utterly deprived of his usual humor.  
     “I’ll handle this.” Neither dared open their mouth to protest; humbled, they cocked their weapons and stood silently as Gabriel closed his eyes, reluctantly reaching out with his mind to find the vampire. Another angel would easily sense the flare of Grace and be at their position in a moment, but Gabriel was tired and wanted to get Sam the hell away from here. He felt the dirty, blooding blinking of a vampire’s presence and his eyes flew open.  
     “West side of town, suburban neighborhood.” Before they could speak, he zapped over to the house, ignoring the screaming of a little child and her mother yanking her and fleeing out the door. He held out a casual hand and pinned the vampire to the wall before she could move; he grinned humorlessly.  
     “You’ve caused me an awful lot of trouble, and I’m really tempted to bury you in a barrel of dead man’s blood until you choke to death. But I’ve got a soft spot for your girlfriend, so let’s just get this over with. Any last words, bloodsucker?” The vampire looked like it was about to spit at his feet, something Gabriel had never really appreciated, before retracting her fangs and sighing.  
     “Tell Lenore I’m sorry. It just...I wasn’t strong enough.” With a curt nod, he burned the vampire to ashes and zapped back to Lenore and Sam; to his shock, they were still both silent, Sam cleaning his weapon and Lenore glaring at a window. They both jerked their heads up as Gabriel appeared; it couldn’t have taken any longer than a minute, maybe two.  
     “Lenore, nice to meet you, hope we never see you again. Sam, let’s go.” He was back to his usual snark, but inwardly he was already planning on making a visit with Crowley, or Castiel; someone, anyone, who could get Sam back.  
      Sam snorted in disgust and made for the car Sam had “acquired” on the claim that zapping everywhere made him feel ill; as Gabriel turned to follow, Lenore caught his arm and pulled him down to whisper in his ear. She was, perhaps, unaware of the fact that in his tension, he’d nearly ripped her head off as a matter of practice.  
     “I don’t know what happened to him, or what you are,” she breathed, urgent and concerned, “but he’s nothing but a vicious killer, and you know it. I hope you know what you’re doing, hunting with him, because one day you’re going to look away, and he’s going to do something too awful to turn your back on.” Gabriel smiled sadly, straightening up slowly.  
     “Thanks, sister. I’ll keep it in mind.” Her eyes had been saying it from the second she’d seen them, not to repeat the mistake she’d made, and Gabriel had felt the knowledge from the second he’d shaken hands with Sam under a mangled streetlight.  
      He followed Sam back to the car, and got in as they drove one city closer to their breaking point.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel's had enough, and he decides to go get Sam's soul himself, and damn the consequences. What he wasn't planning on was a reunion that made those Sunday dinners with the family look like a lighthearted sitcom.

     Gabriel walked slowly, feeling the sizzle of coals beneath his feet. He’d muted his Grace as far as he dared; fully exposed, it would have been a beacon. Now, in their misery, the writhing souls around him could hardly differentiate the flicker from the flames roaring around them. Instinctually, his dim wings curled around him, trying to shield him from the stink of charred humanity around him.  
Hell, in and of itself, held no fear for him. After he died, he would go somewhere far different, and there was nothing capable of containing an archangel. Not anything that wasn’t occupied, anyways.  
      His feet dragged; the fires were growing dull, replaced by an oppressive, cloying darkness. The air was bitterly cold, and he felt the lungs of his vessel aching already. He knew he was approaching his destination, vessel jerking itself along despite every wish to fly, fly and hide in a garden and smell the flowers, remind himself of the garden of heaven and purge his nostrils of hell. But he wouldn’t turn back.  
      The Cage had been built for Lucifer, and so was tailored for him alone. The absence of flames was thus significant; it was futile to try and burn a Morning Star. Flames were his domain and he would have thrived. So Michael, knowing his brother well, had crafted an icy prison, freezing darkness and heavy silence designed to snuff out his will to fight. Instead, when Lucifer had climbed his way out, thousands of years later, he had learned to burn cold; gone was his explosive temper and earnest passion, replaced by a chilled patience and a smoldering rage.  
      Now the cage was occupied by two, and as Gabriel drew closer, he shivered at what he saw. The Cage was a simple, curved circle, a ring of clear ice with bars shooting up infinitely, elegant restrictive symbols smoking their crystal breath into the air. Everything around them was dark; Gabriel wasn’t even entirely sure what he was standing on.  
      Inside, Michael and Lucifer were there, and existing in a way Gabriel hadn’t seen them since the three of them had been in heaven. Their true forms were glorious, iridescent, shifting and morphing color and shape, wings blanketed with a layer of frost. At the moment, Lucifer was kneeling over a prone figure on the ground, mouth twisted in grim satisfaction as he held a finger to its forehead. The figure was glowing softly, the light pulsing and twitching in evident pain.  
A soul. Sam’s soul.  
      “Brothers.” They both looked up, incredulous; nearly in unison, they stood, Lucifer casually kicking the figure out of his way to the corner of the Cage. Their faces lit up with temporary joy, and Gabriel’s cursed himself for being so stupid. They were expecting him to release them; they thought he had come to be their savior, their liberator. Silently, he shook his head, laying a hand regretfully on the Cage. Darkening in rage, it was Michael who spoke first.  
      “So it’s true. I thought Lucifer spoke falsely, but truly, you have betrayed us. Betrayed me.” Michael’s voice, ringing with its usual arrogance, shook with an edge of disbelief that made Gabriel’s Grace clench.  
      “No. I didn’t. I chose a side, the side of Father’s creations; if you see that as betrayal, that’s not my fault.” Lucifer shook his head, standing next to Michael.  
      “No. You chose the Winchester’s side. Sam Winchester’s side. I know you, Gabriel; at first I thought it was Kali, but now it’s obvious...” Gabriel swallowed, shaking his head while Michael half turned towards Sam. He smiled incredulously.  
      “Nonsense. Gabriel has always been...unpredictable, fond of his mischief, but to betray us over a human? One human? You wouldn’t.” Michael’s smile faded when Gabriel gave him an unapologetic stare.  
      “So that’s it. You’ve come for him. Not us.” Michael’s voice was flat and dangerous, and Gabriel glared at Lucifer, who shrugged with a triumphant smile.  
      “Give him to me, Michael, Lucifer. Please.” They laughed mockingly, and Gabriel marveled at the fact that it was in hell that it seemed his brothers had finally reconciled. He flinched as Michael slammed a fist against the bars and glared at Gabriel, who seemed unable to look away  
     “This is it? No apologies, no nothing? I thought...when you left, I feared Lucifer had taken you! Tried to bend you to his will. I tore heaven apart for my little brother and would have gone back to hell itself to retrieve you, and then found out you were galavanting with a heathen whore? Shirking your duty, your role to heaven, while I sat and wept for your return? How dare-” Lucifer gripped his arm, and Michael clamped his mouth shut, breathing hard.  
      “It’s no use. You’ve seen how he is; more willing to die for one traitorous human than to suffer for his own brothers.” Gabriel opened his mouth to defend himself but thought better of it; nothing could be accomplished by it, and perhaps they were right, anyways.  
      “I’ve made my choice. Now give him to me, or I’ll come in and get him myself.” Their eyes widened in shock, the curl of a sneer already forming on Lucifer’s mouth.  
      “You think you can, little brother? Are you capable? If you open this Cage, you will not be able to restrain us. At least, not both of us.”  
      “I don’t care!” His voice was ragged and slightly manic, but by this time, Michael had caught on, and shook his head.  
      “Perhaps not. But the man Sam WInchester, despite his flaws, cared a great deal about his world; he would hardly appreciate its destruction for his sake after all he gave to save it.” Gabriel gritted his teeth; he was loathe to admit it, but Michael was right. Clearly Lucifer was rubbing off on him; he hadn’t always spoke with that amount of cunning. Backing away, he stared longingly at the trembling figure in the corner.  
      “I’m sorry,” he whispered, wrenching his eyes away from Sam to look at his brothers. Michael had regained his stony composure, and the traces of misery were barely visible on his face; Lucifer stood at his side, and neither one showed any response to his words. Their ironic newfound compromise made Gabriel want to laugh.  
      "Sam, I’m going to get you out of here. I promise.” There was a weak flicker of response, and Lucifer’s eyes flashed cruelly.  
      “I’ll make sure to tell him.” Eyes narrowing, Gabriel forced himself to turn away, wings flaring out and he vaulted upwards, away from their Cage, and back to his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update! I really like this new chapter, though. It helps flesh out Gabriel's character for me. Anyways, next chapter coming soon; sexy times to come! *waggles eyebrows* As always, reviews and comments appreciated :)


	4. Chapter 4

The first time they had sex, it was nothing Gabriel had expected or hoped for.   
      
After Gabriel had returned from the Cage, he’d been drained from the journey and irritated beyond belief. It hadn’t stopped Sam from dragging him out on a hunt for an empousa. One dead vampire-donkey-bronze lady later, they’d reached a motel fighting over Sam’s calculated recklessness. Gabriel had healed him with a frustrated flick of the hand, not bothering to cushion the popping of a joint or the knitting of skin. Sam had grabbed him by the shoulder, determined to make his point; Gabriel had whipped around and slammed him into the wall, breathing hard.   
      
“Don’t touch me.” Sam laughed, derisive and cruel.   
      
“Like that’s what you really want.” Gabriel couldn’t decide if he just wanted to beat the crap out of him or just agree. Agree, and let Sam take him, stop fighting and being sly and being responsible and just let Sam fuck his brains out, forget about all the complicated crap.   
      
“Getting a little big in the head there, Sam? I’m an archangel; I’ve screwed prettier asses than yours as a warmup.” The words stung coming out, and he felt them cut his mouth. As if Sam didn’t catch his breath, even now.  
      
“Cut the bluffing; you’ve had a hard on for me since Mystery Spot, and you know it.”  
      
“In your dreams.”  
      
“I don’t sleep; more like yours.”  
      
“You just won’t take no for an answer, will you?” In response, Sam leaned forward, sinuous and sickly sweet, and Gabriel couldn’t help himself; his mouth was kissing back, so desperate for all the things he’d wanted with Sam and was getting now, warped and wrong but still with just the right edge of temptation.   
      
Mouth curving in victory, Sam dragged Gabriel forward before pushing him backwards onto the bed. His hands came up and ran through Gabriel’s hair, and Gabriel hated himself for dropping his hands to Sam’s waist as Sam’s fingers tugged his hair gently, then harder. He felt manipulated, but the feeling didn’t repress the growing urge he felt; he bit on Sam’s lip, kissing hard and fast and desperate. They clumsily fell onto the bed, Gabriel’s breath coming out in a huff.  
      
He snapped, not wanting to bother with clothes; grinning, Sam dropped his head and kissed Gabriel in the hollow of his neck, catching a tiny bit of skin beneath his teeth, mouthing hungrily at the rest of his neck. Slowly, he dragged his lips, the skin rough and chapped, over the skin of his chest until he reached Gabriel’s nipple, sucking gently. Groaning, Gabriel’s hands came up and he ran them though Sam’s hair before lacing behind Sam’s neck, trying to regain control. Not having any of that, Sam straightened up, looking down imperiously at Gabriel spread out below him, flushed and panting.   
      
“Do you want me to fuck you?” His voice was low, mesmerizing, and his eyes glowed with the expectation of Gabriel’s admittance to defeat.   
      
Gabriel teetered on the edge of giving in.   
      
No meant that he was in control. No meant that they’d reached their stalemate, neither one willing to give any more.   
      
Yes meant that he was giving in. Surrendering to misplaced love and closing his eyes for the sake of selfish desire.   
      
Simply put, to say yes meant to stay, and to say no meant he would have to leave.   
      
“Yes.” Sam’s face lit up with triumph, his victory etched in every line of his false smile. He looked genuinely pleased, an expression he found much more terrifying than a flat happiness.   
      
Not bothering to reply, Sam pinned Gabriel’s wrists to the bed, leaning until they were pressing together, nearly all of Sam’s weight resting on Gabriel. “Lube.” Gabriel pressed it into Sam’s open palm, and the weight withdrew.   
      
Gabriel wanted it to be rough, and brief. He wished, almost, that Sam would be cruel, so he could turn his face away and play the broken martyr, slip into another role and play it with a smile.   
      
When Sam’s hands nudged his legs open, they were insistent. Sam’s fingertip dragged slowly along his rim as Gabriel waited. Waited. Sam might be painfully ignorant to the spectrum of human emotion, at the moment, but he knew, instinctively, what Gabriel wanted. And he wasn’t going to give it to him.   
      
Sam slipped one finger in, and Gabriel let out a quiet breath as Sam worked it in, out, in a small circle. He did the same with the second, while Gabriel tried to find a word to describe the sensation.   
      
Clinical. Each one of Sam’s actions was the same; measured to ease Gabriel open, not gauged towards pleasure. Still, Gabriel was moaning by the third finger.   
      
“Now for the fun part,” Sam murmured, withdrawing each finger individually. He didn’t bother unwrapping a condom, instead squeezing more lube from the bottle. Gabriel tilted his head up to watch Sam rub the lube on in quick, short jerks.   
      
Noticing, Sam slowed down a little, dragging his hand up and letting it slide off, rubbing a thumb slowly over the tip and letting it slide through his the slit, dragging the leaking pre come over his cock along with the lube, until it glistened. Gabriel’s own erection was stimulated by the sight, and he reached down instinctually, not expecting any help from Sam.   
      
To his surprise, Sam’s hand snapped out, catching his wrist. Forehead crinkled in a frown, Sam shook his head.   
      
“Not yet,” he growled, pushing Gabriel’s hand back up to his chest. Finished prepping himself, he leaned forward, bracing his hands on Gabriel’s knees before positioning his cock with one hand, casually letting it nudge against Gabriel’s hole, rubbing it up and down in long, smooth strokes.   
      
“Just…get it over with,” Gabriel muttered, cock throbbing and curved up towards his stomach, flushed with blood. Sam grinned, letting one hand come up and stroking down the length of it with one crooked finger.   
      
“Don’t pretend this is just some chore you want to get over with, Gabriel. Don’t pretend you’re not going to enjoy every second. You want this. You need me, even fucked up and warped like I am right now, all you can think about is having me inside you,” he said, voice low and rougher than usual, charged with excitement and lust.   
      
Gabriel’s eyes flicked to his face, eyes bright and fierce and defensive, and then they flicked away, staring at the bedside table, Sam’s wallet sitting there, the room key, a pad of paper.   
      
Impatient at being ignored, Sam leaned forward and thrust his hips in the same movement, and Gabriel suddenly arched, letting out a strangled groan as his hands fisted in the sheets before flying up to Sam’s back, clawing at the skin. Pulling back, Sam thrust forward again, and repeated, an agonizing pattern of a quick, powerful push, a lingering second or two, and the slow pull back. Gabriel’s breath was coming out in uneven gasps punctuated with the occasional moan.    
      
The slow pace eventually got to him; he was splayed out on the bed, toes curling into the mattress and both of them were slicked with sweat.   
      
“Sam, go faster, for Christ’s sake,” he finally begged, and Sam let out a short laugh, pushing forward again before he straightened up and hitched Gabriel’s ankles up to rest on his shoulders. Gabriel’s hands slipped weakly from his back and went back to clawing into the sheets.  
      
“Isn’t that kind of sacrilegious? I mean, you knew the guy’s mom…” Nevertheless, he started to speed up, snapping his hips faster and faster, hands slipping down to Gabriel’s thighs to brace himself, gripping with bruising strength. His breath came in short, harsh bursts as he slammed in and out, pace steadily increasing.   
      
This time when Gabriel moved one hand to start dragging up his cock, Sam had no objection. Closing his eyes, Gabriel tilted his head back, hips jerking slightly as he moved his hand up and down as quickly as he could, occasionally running a shaking thumb over his slit. Sam just admired the sight of Gabriel with his eyes closed and throat exposed as his head pushed into the mattress, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.   
      
Sam didn’t bother to warn Gabriel before he came, letting out an inarticulate cry as he gave a few more stuttering thrusts and then held himself in place, head thrown back. After spasming a few times he let his head drop to look at Gabriel, damp hair falling forward into his face.   
      
Slowly, he leaned forward, letting Gabriel’s legs slip back down to lay flat on the bed, and put his hand over Gabriel’s, moving it up and down with him. He didn’t say a word, just kept jerking his hand up and down until Gabriel came, making all manner of unholy, pleasure filled noises but religiously avoiding Sam’s name.   
      
Sam pulled out as Gabriel let out a long, shuddering sigh.   
      
“Not bad,” he muttered before pushing off the bed and heading for the shower. When he came back, the bed was neat and Gabriel was gone.


End file.
